Letting Go...To Grasp What Really Matters

“I must have done something right,” the father of a nineteen-year-old young lady was telling me after having fixed my troublesome garage door.

Although his daughter had drifted a bit during her early teen years, she was now coming over to her parents’ house on the weekends and was genuinely enjoying spending time with her parents again.

The repairman’s eyes lit up when he talked about the renewed relationship with his daughter. He seemed relieved about how things had turned out.

“I must have done something right,” he had said a few minutes earlier.

His oldest daughter is nineteen. My oldest daughter is ten. I don’t want to wait nine years to know whether or not I’ve done something right. Because now is when I need to hear it.

Now—when I am in smack dab in the middle of raising her.

Now—when I feel the pressure to examine every choice I make, wondering how these choices will affect her now and in the future.

Now—when I want to trust my gut and live by heart rather than simply go along with mainstream opinion or “expert” advice.

Now—when I need little glimmers of hope to cling to each day.

So I decided not to wait.

Each day for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been looking for a little rightness—a little what-is-right-in-my-world.

Notice I say “a little.” Because what I am talking about is practically unnoticeable. It’s hardly note-worthy. And it’s definitely not anything worthy of public sharing—at least not according to societal standards. But that’s why it’s working for me. That’s why it’s encouraging to me. Because looking for what is right in my world – in my day – in my hour – is far more encouraging than looking for what is “right” in my world according to social media, societal standards, or popular opinion.

I invite you to take a look. Maybe this list will inspire you to see what is right in your world today.

A few years ago, I had a small group of women over to my home for dinner. My husband and I had resided in this location for about six months, and I had enjoyed getting to know these particular ladies and wanted to know them better.

I will never forget when one of the women inadvertently opened the closet door instead of the pantry to discard her trash.

Much to my embarrassment, an enormous accumulation of “crap” fell from the sky. She protected her face from flying cookbooks, outdated school directories, headless Barbie dolls, school projects, half finished scrapbooks, and yes, even a dirty sock.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” I gasped.

I scrambled to uncover her, hastily brushing off the stale crumbs stuck to her forehead that had fallen off the completely over-used recipe for Mom’s Banana Bread that had also descended from the closet.

I will never forget the look on her face.

Relief.

Pure and simple relief.

She looked me in the eye and said, “You don’t know how happy this makes me. Thank God, you aren’t perfect after all!”

I hugged her tightly and we both laughed.

Although I hadn’t yet experienced my Breakdown Breakthrough to begin living “real,” the notion that I appeared perfect (until someone saw the contents of my closet) sat on my shoulder gently reminding me that it’s perfectly OK to be imperfect, in fact, most people welcome it; most people actually embrace it!

But it is not easy to show people the contents of your closet, the messy, unsightly, most unbecoming parts that we can hardly bear to look at ourselves, let alone allow anyone else to see.

I recalled this incident vividly when a former classmate, dear friend, and fellow blogger recently made an announcement.

I’m headed in a new direction here at Wisdom Comes Suddenly, and I hope you’ll like this chapter as much as you’ve enjoyed previous escapades, because this chapter is…um, well to be honest, it’s REAL. Really…real. It’s begins with a new affiliate relationship I’ve formed with a company I blogged about one year ago named “Celebrate Calm“. They specialize in teaching parents behavioral techniques for intense and/or special needs children, i.e. Gifted, ADHD, ODD, OCD, Anxiety Disorders, Asperger’s, Autism, Sensory Integration Disorder, and other learning or emotional disorders. That being said, I think their techniques are so common sense, they would work on any child.

So here comes the real part: Sara is a special needs child, which would be the first time in 5 years I’ve said that out loud. I like to refer to her as “high needs,” because for some reason, I find it easier to say. It’s ambiguous; ambiguous can be comforting when you climb a mountain with a child, only to look up and see another standing in your way. We live with the fuzzy hope that each mountain will be our last.

Sara’s diagnosis list is so long that it truly deserves its own post, and I promise to share that journey in the very near future. For now, I can tell you she is simply a very intense child who defies all common parenting logic. We are not alone in parenting an intense child, this much I’ve learned.”

I have been following Lori’s blog for several months now marveling at her brilliance and endless talents. Although I am not “crafty,” I enjoy her creative “20 minute” sewing projects that turn a piece of scrap into a sleeping bag for a doll (or a cat, if it is cooperative). I drool over her organic dinner menus and homemade pies that would give Paula Dean a run for her money. And I enjoy seeing Lori transform an ordinary room into something from a vintage bed and breakfast for next to nothing.

But most of all, I love the warm and fuzzy feeling I receive each time I am invited into the beautiful life Lori has created in a home where love always comes first.

And when I had a chance to look in her closet to see the messy, difficult, disorganized, and unpleasant parts of her life, I loved her even more.

As I read her words on my computer that night, I wiped away the tears. I applauded her courage. I admired her honesty. I anticipated her wisdom and her journey.

And being a writer in a public forum, I couldn’t help but think of Lori, the woman who had to push “publish” on that bad boy.

I can only imagine the hesitation, the deep breath, the anxiety, and the wonder.

Because once you speak the words, you cannot take them back. Being real is not the easy path.

But I would wager to say that every single person who reads of her new chapter feels a sense of relief. And like my friend who saw the contents of my closet, a bit of the “thank-God-she’s-not-perfect-after-all” kind of relief. Maybe there is hope for the rest of us, after all.

It is difficult, painful even to discuss the challenges of parenting life. We often withhold information because we think people will judge us or that people will think we are bad parents, but by holding back, you are diminishing your chance to connect with someone who says, “I am going through this, too. Let’s help each other.”

Lori is creating a community. She began by putting herself out there, by being real. And now there is a safe place to lay your worries. There is a safe place to say, “I’m scared.” There is a safe place to say, “I am having a really bad day.” And there is a safe place to say, “Things didn’t quite turn out the way I had planned. Where do I go from here?”

And there will be my friend Lori, reaching out her hand providing encouragement along with humor, along with creative ideas like “I Promise” and “Ear Comforters” that work for her child and might work for yours, too.

Isn’t this what it is all about? Living Real equates to Loving Real. Building a community that allows for scars, blemishes, struggles and messy closets?

Isn’t it when we expose the imperfections that the healing begins?

Isn’t it when we stop hanging on tightly to perfection that we can truly grasp what matters?

Isn’t it when we open our messy closets that the joy, the laughter, and the love can find its way in?

Isn’t it when we show each other our scars that we love each other more?

I think so.

Could those of us reading today become a community of people who embrace and welcome realness? Could “The Hands Free Revolution” become a group of people striving to grasp what really matters by living real and loving real? It starts with me. It starts with you. Open your closet. Uncover your scars. Let the healing light shine in. And while you’re at it, spread the light to someone else by clicking the “share” button below.

Those are my hands and the hands of my daughters. There is much more than a picture here.

If you are like me and often feel the need to “control” all the variables, this story is for you.

What I am about to share is the story behind the Hands Free Mama logo that you see at the top of my website. For me, it is much more than a logo. For me, it symbolizes the beautiful result of letting go of perfection and control.

The story of my logo goes like this…

-Those are my hands forming the misshapen heart. Unlike the way I have lived most of my life, I did not prepare a detailed plan about how I was going to pose my hands for this photo. But as you might have guessed, my hands were supposed to resemble a perfectly shaped heart.

Before I became Hands Free, I would have had to re-do this photo until the heart was perfectly formed. But seeing it through my new Hands Free perspective, this misshapen heart demonstrates the true meaning of Hands Free. Letting go of perfection gives you the ability grasp, experience, see, and feel what really matters in life like joy, connection, grace, forgiveness, and personal growth. And the end result? Why of course, it is love; loving yourself and the people around you without restraint.

-Those are my daughters’ hands covering my own. The girls were tired at the time and ready to go home. There were more than a few “Why do we have to do this?” questions and “Are we done now?” moans. But two short months later, my seven-year-old-asks, “Can we read your blog, today, Mama?” And the four-year-old regularly makes a heart shape with her hands when we drive in the car. I especially treasure the day she lifted her heart shaped little hands and called out, “My hands can make something beautiful, Mama!” Oh yes, sweet girl, oh yes, they can. If my daughter’s revelation is the only thing comes from this Hands Free journey, I will be fulfilled.

-The photo was taken by my husband, Scott…not by a professional photographer. My husband knows nothing about perspective, backlighting, diffraction, or contrast, and neither do I (hence the reason I just Googled “basic photography terms”). But the way the sunlight illuminates the clean lines of our hands in contrast to the tattered brown bark of the tree, I would have thought my husband has been taking photography classes on the sly.

-The idea for my title, Hands Free, was discovered within a pile of over fifty sheets of paper filled with jagged manuscript written by a woman who dreams best when she processes life while running on a treadmill.

I had written these words for some reason off to the side of a detailed story idea, but months later, I couldn’t quite remember why. On the day I searched for a title, the words seemed to be written in glowing letters just waiting for me to find them. In that moment, Hands Free Mama came to life…in so many ways.

-The title and tag line merged with my image through the talents of a man I have never met. Although his computer skills are completely mind boggling, I have learned that his skills as a father and as a husband are even more astonishing. Simply as an act of kindness, this man graciously used his own valuable time and skill to create this beautiful logo for me. I speak of angels on this journey. He is mine.

So now you have the unplanned, yet incredible, story behind the creation of my Hands Free Mama logo. And there is a term for what happened here.

It is what I call perfect imperfection.

The reason the elements of my logo fit together so beautifully, so complementary is because they were not planned. They were not thought out in a twenty-step flow chart or Venn diagram the way I have lived my life for far too long.

For once in my life, I allowed something to develop on its own.

For once in my life, I surrendered control.

For once in my life, I simply let go.

I went Hands Free. And the fact that it turned out so extraordinarily confirms that life should be lived this way.

Just imagine if you let all areas of life just BE instead of trying to create the end result that you want or that you imagine.

You will often hear me say that I am simply the messenger on this Hands Free journey. And it is by the grace of God that I have a message to give.

Today, and for all the days to follow, my message is this: perfect imperfection is a beautiful sight to behold. In fact, it can change the way you look at life….if you simply let it.

How often do you allow the events of your day simply happen without planning or premeditation? How often do you ‘throw caution to the wind’ and just do something silly, crazy, fun, or spontaneous? I sure would love to hear your “Perfect Imperfection” story. And if you don’t have one, tomorrow is a new day. And I bet there is a child, a significant other, or a friend who would be a willing partner on your quest to fulfill that misshapen heart that beats inside us all.